


Friend Like You

by mrasaki



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, aggravation is good for Jim Kirk, competition is the basis of true love, ridiculous amounts of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-05
Updated: 2009-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrasaki/pseuds/mrasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim had never been so turned on nor so aggravated in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friend Like You

**Author's Note:**

> For cys ([](http://kyouichi.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kyouichi.livejournal.com/)**kyouichi** ), who puts up with my shit. :D

Jim met him for the first time on the deck of a ferry in San Francisco Bay, waiting along with a crowd of several hundred people for the signal to jump into freezing, shark-infested waters and swim madly the two miles back to shore from Alcatraz Island. It was more than a little insane in his opinion, but having started a year later than most of his classmates Jim needed that extra course credit in Physical Training. But at six in the morning his natural optimism and energy was at an absolute nadir and the credit seemed suddenly a lot less important as he shivered in the fog despite a thick sweatshirt and wetsuit and watched the iron-gray water churning far below.

The Asian guy was impossible to miss, shirtless amongst the clumps of other bundled-up, shivering competitors, golden and dark-eyed, casually strolling along the deck and energetically swinging his arms, the only indication of cold in his dark, beaded nipples and his fogging breath. Jim's normally keen interest at the toned legs and high  cheekbones only flickered, his mind appreciative but other parts shriveled to raisins and maybe even crawled back into his body for protection.

 

"Aren't you cold?" Jim blurted when the guy came close enough for conversation. Jim's voice came over-loud and a bit shrill and he was hyper-aware this wasn't his smoothest moment, his tongue and mind and hands numbed in the biting wind. But the guy just looked at him for a moment and good, Jim hadn't lost it, even chilled and miserable and feeling sorry for himself first thing in the morning, because the guy smiled and said, "You aren't from around here, are you?"

Jim wondered if his teeth chattering was a dead giveaway. "Hell no. Just moved here a couple months ago. You?"

"Born and raised right here in 'Frisco." Well that figured, Jim thought; there still weren't that many Asians in the Midwest and Jim had seen more of them in the three months he'd been in the Bay Area than he'd seen in his entire life previously. "All you San Francisco people this crazy?" he asked, eyeing the thin spandex from waist to knees that was the only thing that the guy was wearing. The guy laughed, a bright note against the dreary fog. "Starfleet cadet getting the shakes?" he taunted, referring to the Academy red swimcap dangling from Jim's hand.

And just like that, a conversation was started. At some point the guy -- Sulu, he learned -- took him over to the drinks booth to get him a hot drink, and then he helped Jim stretch out. "Haven't you done this before?" he asked, in the same slightly mocking, friendly way he had before they went back to the break in the deck railing where they were to jump off in waves.

Jim had it in mind to retort that in Iowa people stayed firmly on land, not jumped off boats into freezing shark-infested waters just to prove they could, but suddenly the crowd came to attention. In the following rush he barely had enough time to strip off his sweatshirt as Sulu jammed the rubber swimcap on Jim's head and then slapped him upside it for good luck, and disappeared into the crowd for his own wave. Jim was left gasping from nerves, jostled and pushed by the crowd that was suddenly moving him along towards the edge of the deck.

When his turn came he took a deep breath, thought _George Kirk's son can do anything_, and leapt with his eyes wide open.

 

###

The water was just as cold as expected, the shock of hitting the water as breath-stealing. But he hadn't thought to be kicked and pummeled by the other swimmers, catching several accidental blows to his side and head, nor slapped in the face by wave after wave. But he gritted his teeth and struck out towards shore and dimly seen bright pennants, fighting the feeling that he was weighted down, churning his arms and legs in the murky water and going absolutely nowhere. Despair began to edge around his determination, the difference between training in a pool and swimming in the fucking ocean brutally evident, but he kept pushing on because dammit, he was going to win or they'd have to pull his unconscious, frozen ass out trying.

Eventually he stopped to tread water and catch his breath while ostensibly emptying his goggles of sea water, and he saw Sulu swimming casually off to his left, stroking easily along. Crazy bastard made it look like a sunny day at the pool, Jim thought, when Sulu gave him a challenging stare and shouted over the splashes and grunts of other swimmers and the growl of boat motors, "Pussying out?"

And then it was _on._

 

They chased each other into the marina, ignoring the yells and cheers of the crowd over Jim dogging Sulu's heels through the finish line, Jim stumbling and cursing in between pants, Sulu laughing and flinging taunts over his shoulder.

Once they'd showered and toweled off and changed and Jim was busily trying not to be a sore loser, Sulu stuffed him into a taxi.

###

Jim had never been so turned on nor so aggravated in his life_. _  
   
Sulu had him pressed up against the door and he had his hands curled in Jim's damp hair, sucking a sharp point of pain into his neck, and Jim was as short of breath as he'd been when he'd hit the water and the first icy wave had slapped him in the face. They were in a bar across town, Sulu having waved off closer places with an airy, "Local versus tourist, dude, hella big difference," and Jim laughed at the memory, albeit weakly, thoroughly distracted as Sulu's thumb traced up the bumps of his ribs. Surfer lingo in California, who woulda thunk.

The place was small and covered in trailing plants and beer bottle labels from all over the world; pretty nice, Jim had enough time to think before Sulu had packed him into a booth and got them beers of a kind Jim had never heard of before and whose name he probably couldn't pronounce.

Jim was used to being the best. And though it didn't always come effortlessly, born of luck and hard work and a lot of will, having competition for the position both irritated and intrigued him. When Sulu clanked his mug against Jim's and said, "Here's to losing," he'd shoved Sulu and his satisfied smirk into the restroom, his chest tight and his dick hard at the laughing white teeth flashing at him as they went. But Sulu showed no surprise and preempted him instead, grabbing the back of his head and thrusting his tongue into Jim's mouth.

They wrestled, hands bunched in shirts, and cloth tore as Sulu scraped his mouth along the sharp bone of Jim's jaw, all wet tongue and dangerous teeth. Jim could only pant, the sly tongue doing wicked things to that spot just behind his jaw that made him want to hunch his shoulder and squirm away, but that challenge was back in Sulu's brown eyes again and Jim forced himself still and gave it right back. "Is that all you've got?" he grinned, reaching out and getting his hands on the firm sculpted chest he couldn't ignore the entire morning, all warm, pliant skin, and he tasted brine as he ran his tongue over the small brown nipples and plane of chest. Sulu hissed, "_Fuck_" under his breath and pressed him back against the door, one heavy hand against Jim's shoulder and holding him there.

They fucked against the door, the splintery wood digging into Jim's back, his leg wrapped firmly around narrow hips and the other foot braced against the sink--_god_, his mind stuttered, wasn't that just a testament to how strongSulu was, holding Jim up against the door, fucking all the little noises out of him. Jim's eyes rolled back into his head at the intensity of it, how fucking good. It was just that much hotter with only spit and handsoap from the sink to help them along, the raw friction edged with pain making his lust spiral higher and it felt like he hadn't gotten his breath back since the moment they'd slammed in there. The door rattled in its frame but Jim couldn't bring himself to care that anyone walking by outside would have a pretty pornographic idea what was going on inside, focused only on Sulu's lips back at his throat, all sharp teeth and suction and maybe even blood, and Jim couldn't bring himself to care about that either.

###

Sulu, as it turned out, was also an Academy cadet. But for all that he was Science track and Jim was Command, Command-track cadets were required to have at least a basic knowledge of all the other branches so Jim found himself in a number of Sulu's classes.

Jim made it a point of pride to get top marks in all of his courses, but he was beginning to suspect that his acquaintance with Sulu would always be spiced with frustration; Sulu trounced him easily in his own specialization and Jim only placed second in Xeno-botany and Astrophysical Fluid Dynamics. Jim managed to come out top in Computational Atomic Spectra after some marathon study sessions and a hefty dose of extra credit--after all of which Bones pronounced him medically insane when he'd found Jim sprawled out on his bed after finals, exhausted to the point of passing out but too aggravated to sleep.

But Sulu threw him the same smirk no matter what, that knowing smile that said _I know I'm getting under your skin_ that drove Jim completely wild and made Sulu fuck him even harder, jerk him off even harder, suck him off even harder in the restrooms in the sub-level of the Sciences building.

It was that unspoken challenge that made Jim sign up for Bay to Breakers and he trained harder for it than he'd ever trained for anything before. He was more than fit to begin with, having conquered the Starfleet physical requirements long ago, but the 12k slog over the high hills of San Francisco was only manageable through sheer will and the memory of those lips, quirking and asking, "You sure your corn-pone ass will make it?" He made it all right, but Sulu twisted his ankle half-way through and had to forfeit, and suddenly winning lost its luster.

The next year's Escape from Alcatraz was more than satisfactory, however, Sulu behind Jim by two seconds. He came up behind Jim as Jim was jumping and yelling and smacked him across the ass, whispering, "Congrats," with a hot brush of lips against his ear, and Jim was suddenly glad he'd chosen to wear his wetsuit that year, the thick material hiding his bulge from the cheering crowd.

Jim found Sulu in the same bar on Fulton they'd gone to the first time and it really was the best bar in San Francisco, Jim had been resident long enough to know that now, and Sulu was waiting for him with a beer, saluting him with it as he came in.

Sulu was the one shoved to the bathroom wall this time, the tones of his skin glowing in the variegated light thrown from the single round stained glass window, stark against the stickers and flyers pasted to the wall. Jim went on his knees and pulled him out, letting the length slide down his throat, the taste washing over his tongue, and he watched Sulu's eyes widen and then droop, thick black lashes fluttering as he ground his nose against Sulu's belly, the hair there coarse and scratchy. A bit out curse and what sounded suspiciously like _Jim_ and long fingers clenched in his hair and pulled, Sulu's hips jerking upwards into Jim's willing mouth in a series of involuntary staccato movements. Jim rode him out until he felt Sulu's long thighs trembling under his hands as if with the exhaustion that Jim had yet to witness after a race, Sulu's harsh pants adding to the thick, charged tension that made his own cock lay heavily against his thigh.

Jim worked his fingers back and behind and cautiously over the pucker there and now Sulu wasn't so silent anymore, wouldn't shut up, hissing _Come on_ and _please_, his knees shaking as he tried to spread himself wider for Jim's probing fingers. He convulsed over Jim's head like he'd been punched in the gut as Jim worked his thumb in to the knuckle, smiling against the wet cock as he slid further down --no, not in triumph; this had gone beyond simple winning and losing-- and sucked one ball into his mouth and ran his tongue over it in a narrowing spiral, his thumb working its way in ever deeper, feeling Sulu clench hot and tight around the digit, and then in and out in counterpoint to each swipe of tongue. Sulu's words went incoherent, just high rasping gasps and vowels, then his hands were wrenching at Jim to the point of pain, yanking him up by his hair, his ears, the collar of his shirt, whatever was at hand.

Sulu's eyes had gone dark, mouth open and panting, red and swollen where he'd been chewing his lips in a vain effort to stay quiet. The quiet smirk was entirely gone, replaced with something completely foreign and Jim couldn't help but kiss it. But Sulu didn't remain pliant under his lips, the softness of it twisting into the intimately familiar bite and suck, a constant jockeying for position as they rubbed against each other. Jim pushed with his lips, his hips,his whole body as Sulu writhed beneath him and hissed dirty, dirty things under his breath, until the rasp of their zippers and hair became too much and Jim swallowed Sulu's groan with his own.

###

They surfed beneath the Golden Gate Bridge and along the Presidio; they met for drinks, they trained for various races and Jim dared Sulu to run naked in the next Bay to Breakers like so many other San Franciscans but he only shook his head at Jim and dared him right back. They were televised on news holovids covering the event and got in some trouble at the Academy, but only a little, thanks to Captain Pike's exasperated intervention. But so things go and the year slipped by; the cadets diverged into their particular specialties, and Jim and Sulu's schedules no longer coincided.

They saw each other briefly around campus, and during the six months of hell in Officer Candidate School the beginning of Jim's third year --Sulu's fourth -- but they were in very different groups by then, and almost never spoke.

###

The _Enterprise_, and Jim was a stowaway, bless Bones' hidden penchant for disregarding the rules. But Captain Pike let him stay, less out of indulgent favoritism and more because nearly three-fourths of the Class of 2258 were dead and OCS-trained graduation-ready cadets were now an endangered species. When it came time for heroics Sulu was the first to volunteer, and Jim would've laughed if it hadn't been such a dire situation; Sulu looked calm and collected at all times, but Jim knew the look of a fellow adventure hound, all right.

So they suited up, them and some guy from Engineering. He wondered that they were the only ones out of the entire crew who were trained in hand to hand, before it occurred to him that they were probably just the most expendable. He should've been in the brig by all rights, and Olson was...well, completely forgettable, but Sulu was -- Sulu was -- first pick for helmsman, wasn't he? Huh.

They trailed after Pike, his expression grim, and it was that look that made Jim realize deep down for the first time that this was for real. That they might not come back, that there was no demerit for losing and that there was no reset button if he failed. Sulu already seemed to have gotten that message; he'd only given Jim one long measuring stare and now he was breathing in long, calming breaths and staring at nothing in particular. But Olson wouldn't shut the fuck up on the other side of Jim, bragging about kicking Romulan ass, aptly illustrating the difference between total adrenaline-junkie and a love of adventure mixed with a healthy dose of wanting to see another day.

Launch. Then a hard landing on the mining platform and they lost Olson almost immediately along with all the charges. Logical, of course, having the Engineering guy carry the explosives, but now they were fucked. A pitched battle followed in which they did better than Jim could have imagined, Sulu doing amazing things with that -- was that blade even Starfleet issue? -- all determined eyes and firm jaw and furious hair, and then Sulu fell. No parachute and the knowledge of it was dark and despairing in Sulu's eyes as he stared at Jim, teetering on the brink.

Jim jumped after him and was falling too, catching up to him with all the aerial maneuvers he'd practiced in training exercises and hitting terminal velocity, and instead of the gratitude he thought he deserved for suicidally leaping off a platform after his classmate and sometime fuck-buddy he could see the words that formed in Sulu's eyes and would've come from his lips if he'd the breath to speak: _What do you think you're doing?_

He grabbed him and Sulu clung to him anyway, wrapping arms and legs around him with frantic desperation, and then --

They landed hard on the transporter platform and something that Jim hoped wasn't bone shattered. He was on top of Sulu, both of them breathing hard, sharing the same sour mingled breath, and Sulu still hadn't let go of his arms, the iron grip starting bruises beneath the heavily reinforced mesh material of his suit. Sulu's cheek was slick with sweat next to his, Sulu's legs still twined with his.

###

"You mean, yes _sir_," Jim breathed against the black hair soft and thick beneath his cheek, and Sulu huffed a laugh but didn't say anything else. Then Jim moved, and that wrung a harsh cry from the man and Jim continued just like that, shallowly and at an angle, just enough for Sulu to feel every inch with absolutely no satisfaction to be had. Sulu writhed, his sweaty grip squeaking against the navigator's console in time to Jim's thrusts, his hot fingers leaving moist streaks of condensation across its clear face.

The console beeped and lit up, asking _UNLOCK?_ _Y/N _with every touch, the gentle blue glow the only light on the deserted bridge.

The edge of the conn must've been digging into the front of Sulu's thighs but  he showed no sign of discomfort, only spreading his legs wider and hitching up on his toes to get a better angle. Jim wouldn't give it to him and he finally hissed, "Fuck, c'mon Kirk--" Jim dicked him right _there_ and Sulu growled breathily through clenched teeth, arching his head back against Jim's shoulder. Jim slopped a wet tongue into the curl of Sulu's ear, murmuring, "That's _Captain_ Kirk to you." That earned him a bared grin, and he continued, "Come on, Gamma shift ends in thirty, you really wanna get caught being fucked by the Captain over the conn?"

He slowed down fractionally, tantalizingly, and Sulu shot him a slit-eyed glare over his shoulder, a look that Jim understood a split second before his vision grayed out, Sulu squeezingand writhing around his dick, a blatant _Wanna bet? _challenge; a cracked sob escaped Jim's throat, his vision tunneling at the pressure and he had to fight against coming instantly. Sulu grinned that slow, knowing smirk again, the lower lip caught between his teeth the only sign that he was running on as thin a knife-edge as Jim. Jim ran a thumb along the edge of Sulu's mouth until Sulu flicked a tongue out to lap at it, and Jim turned Sulu's head fractionally so they could tear a half-kiss, Sulu's chapped lips scraping rough against Jim's.

_UNLOCK? Y/N_ popped up again and again, beeping in time with every small shift of Sulu's cock rubbing against it and Jim reached down and ran his palm down and rolled Sulu's balls between his fingers, testing their warm weight and combing through the hair there. Reveled in how tight Sulu was around him, observed the streaks of lube glistening along Sulu's ass and thighs like fingerpaint, and he got a hold of himself before the urgent ache in his groin took over what was left of his fried brain and made him thrust wildly into the lean man beneath him.

He bit the golden shoulder rather harder than he intended and Sulu shuddered and made a pleading noise, and Jim whispered, "Come on. Just say it." At Sulu's continued determined silence he upped his tempo, hissing _Say it_ _say it _with every thrust, insistent now like he's never been before, demanding Sulu's complete capitulation but Sulu didn't give a single inch, only white knuckled where he gripped the console. The console was sturdily built but it creaked just a bit, and the creaks and beeps provided a counterpoint to Sulu's bitten-off gasps and moans.

Jim couldn't hold on, the feel of Sulu around him hot and slick and tight, feeling the arch of Sulu's back under his hands, the flex of Sulu's ribs with each quick breath and the way Sulu bucked his hips up in time to meet each of Jim's thrusts. His eyes rolled back in his head with his final shove, his orgasm squeezed out of him as Sulu hissed, "Ah--Jim--" and striped the console white.

Jim slumped against Sulu's back, hyper-aware of the hot musky scent of sex palpable in the air and in the sweat that spiked the short black hair on the back of Sulu's neck. "What the hell, Hikaru," Jim complained, feeling rather more than a little put out despite the afterglow. "Is it really so hard?"

Sulu pushed himself up, working himself free with a slightly pained hiss. He didn't answer, casting a dazed look around the bridge and then down at the dirty conn, and his finger trembled as he ran it through the fluid. Holding Jim's gaze, he slowly licked it off, curling his pink tongue around the digit and lapping off every drop. Jim was caught by just how filthy it was, how hot, and an arrow of heat blossomed deep in his gut again despite having come so hard two minutes ago he'd had to stop himself from checking if his brains were dribbling out his ears. But Sulu gave him that same mocking smile around the obscene things he was doing with his tongue, and only took his finger out of his mouth and murmured, "Can't let you win all the time, _Jim_," and turned away to wipe the console off with his black undershirt.

fin


End file.
